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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897978">The Beginnings of a Team</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenParker/pseuds/WardenParker'>WardenParker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Shall Not be Left to Wander [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, F/M, I have no idea wtf I'm doing, Unexpected Allies, cousins being awesome together, new ocs!, shouty people, with good reason to shout</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:00:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenParker/pseuds/WardenParker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving the explosion of Divine Justinia's Conclave, Aisling Vael is left reeling. Chancellor Roderick helps absolutely nothing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aisling Vael x Keller Trevelyan, OC X OC, Trevelyan Inquisitor x oc, male trevelyan x OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Shall Not be Left to Wander [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginnings of a Team</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aisling knew she should have been listening. She should have been concentrating and absorbing very word the warrior at her side was saying, but she couldn’t. The burn of shackles and rope chaffing her wrists was too fresh. The boots she wore were too small and the odd uniform they’d stuffed her into while she was unconscious made her wonder what had happened to the comfortable woolen dress and sturdy leather shoes she’d being wearing before chaos had shaken the world. It was trivial and selfish, she reminded herself, to think of her wardrobe at a time like this; but it was less about her clothing and more about trying to track the last few days of her life. She still didn’t know how long she had been unconscious or what exactly had happened. And now the Right Hand of the Divine was telling her that all of Thedas was against her, and also expecting her to save the world. It was easier to think about petty details than to try to process everything that was happening.<br/>
Her fingers unconsciously ringed around her wrists, tracing and soothing the burn of imprisonment. She tuned in and out of Seeker Cassandra’s explanations as they trod the path to the front gates of Haven, words of demons and the Breach ringing in her ears. Soldiers and scouts swirled around them in a haze and Aisling was fairly certain she had slipped into some terrible dream all over again, but for a familiar (and familiarly condescending) voice cut through the heady fog. </p>
<p>     “Ah, here they come.” Chancellor Roderick had never been a pleasant man, even just the twice Aisling Vael had had the so-called pleasure of encountering him. Now he sounded even more self-important than usual but was shoving past a tall man in travelling clothes to even wave vaguely in her direction. </p>
<p>     “What right have you!” She heard the man’s deep voice howling. Indignation practically bled from his shoulders as they squared well over the chancellor’s head. “A victim with no memory and yet you stain her with an accusation immediately!”</p>
<p>     “You made it.” The Left Hand of the Divine had side stepped the pair of men and approached the Right Hand, almost ignoring the rest of the scene before them.</p>
<p>     “Stain?!” Chancellor Roderick’s face was red as an overripe tomato. “Divine Justinia is dead and—”</p>
<p>     “And you look to blame the nearest soul instead of finding out what really happened.” The younger man was nearly growling. Aisling admitted that she had to appreciate this unknown coming to her defense, but she could certainly argue her own defense. Roderick couldn’t even get out another syllable between the man’s words. “The real culprit could be days away from Haven by now but instead you keep my betrothed in shackles!”</p>
<p>     His what? Aisling’s mind came to a stuttering halt as the words registered properly, and she realized who it was that was bellowing so earnestly at the Chantry clerk. She was two months since betrothed to the youngest son of Lord Trevelyan of Ostwick – and this must be him. But…he was so soft spoken in his letters. The man and this were as night and day.</p>
<p>     “Keller?” It truly was a question. She had never met him, and this was a particularly unnerving way to do so.</p>
<p>     He spun on his heel at the sound of his own name, almost jumping in surprise. Though their arrival was announced he clearly hadn’t heard it through his thunderous indignation. “Aisling?” He towered over all of them, this sturdy tree of a young man, but his face softened to a flower. He was unsure too, she knew, but instinct told them both they were correct. As soon as she nodded, he took two quick steps forward, ready to scoop her up and make a wall of himself between her and the world but resisted. It was their first meeting after all. Instead he reached out to clasp her hands, immediately seeing the swollen red marks the aforementioned shackles had left on her skin. “They wouldn’t let me see you,” he explained. His voice, like his expression, softened measurably. “Are you hurt? Have they mistreated you?”</p>
<p>     “Other than the imprisonment?” It was beyond her to not try to make him smile. She had imagined this meeting so differently, it seemed that they deserved some small reason to smile even if it was her cracking a bad joke amid the world ending. “I’m in one piece, aside from my memory.”</p>
<p>     “I was so worried.” Maker, he looked it.</p>
<p>     She squeezed his hands, as he seemingly refused to let her go, and let herself be honest. “I’m glad you were late in leaving home.” If he had left on time, he would have been inside the Conclave like everyone else. For whatever reason, the Maker had decided to spare them. Spare their lives and their betrothal. For whatever that was currently worse.</p>
<p>     “I—” He swallowed, taking his words in with the cold air, and actually smiled. It was a little thing, but it was there. His hands flexed again around hers and he almost stepped forward again before stopping himself. “May I…Maker this is awkward. May I embrace you? Please?”</p>
<p>     There he was. There was the Keller Trevelyan from his letters. Soft and sweet, tender, and attentive. Respectful, which was a trait nearly all nobleman lacked. “Yes,” she nodded, already drawing his hands towards her. He felt oddly grounding. “You may.”</p>
<p>     Though she was by no means a small woman, he dwarfed her, enveloping her completely in his arms. She found herself automatically reaching around his waist to return the hug. “I feared the worst,” he admitted quietly, only for her ears. </p>
<p>     “The worst is different now.” Aisling buried her head against his chest for a brief moment before Chancellor Roderick cleared his throat at a grotesque volume. </p>
<p>     “You can have your ridiculous moment of tenderness once she is behind bars.” He declared. “The Maker will afford you no forgiveness on your way to the gallows. The hearts of men are much weaker.” That seemed to be all he had to say to them, because he turned his attention staunchly to the Seeker. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”</p>
<p>     Aisling broke out of Keller’s arms in pure anger, already objecting: “You have no authority over the Hands of the Divine!” at the same time the Seeker advanced one glowering step forward. “Order me?” She might have struck him with her voice if she were able. “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” </p>
<p>     The look exchanged between them said more in that moment than they could have ever anticipated: they may have had different motivations, but Aisling Vael and Cassandra Pentaghast both had the same goal. Justice for the Divine. And right now, that was uniting enough for them both.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Summoning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aisling makes a very important deal with her cousin, altering her life in ways she had never expected.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being summoned was never a good sign. And honestly it hardly ever happened. On any regular day, a note would arrive in Aisling’s suite via one of the footmen requesting her presence at something or other and she would politely reply with the time she would appear. Today, a particularly nervous footman skittered into the doorway of her suite when she had been contentedly sitting on a window seat with an open book in her hands and the bright sun soaking into her skin. </p>
<p>“His Royal Highness asks you come to the throne room immediately.” This particular footman was well over 30 years old but was shaking like a schoolboy before his schoolmaster.</p>
<p>Aisling tilted her head a little in an expression of concern. What could be so important that it was an “immediately” situation? She supposed she would find out soon enough. “Be good enough to tell His Highness that I’ll be along as soon as I find my slippers,” she instructed the footman, who scuttled out of her doorway as quickly as humanly possible. <em> Where in the Void had she left her shoes? </em> Her mother’s spirit was probably wagging a finger at her from the Golden City. Proper ladies don’t live their lives barefoot, you know. <em> Barefoot ladies don’t get husbands. </em> If that’s the price she paid for disliking the delicate and intensely uncomfortable footwear of the noble class, she would gladly pay it. </p>
<p>Ah. Kicked under her writing desk. Of course. Grimacing at the constriction of pointed toes, Aisling dropped her book on the desk and headed down the hall to the throne room. </p>
<p>“What part of ‘immediately’ was a mystery to you?” His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, was pacing in front of his throne at a maddening pace. He looked positively distracted.</p>
<p>“Apologies.” Aisling curtsied as manners required but was struck by her cousin’s harried appearance. Sebastian was normally so composed. </p>
<p>“Come with me.” He nodded his head toward the nearly invisible door cut into the stone wall of the room and reached it in four neat strides of his long legs. Whatever it had been before this, it was now a sort of private office for Sebastian to be alone with his thoughts. In this room he was not to be disturbed, and he almost never allowed anyone inside with him. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought, following him inside. “Sit.” There were two chairs inside, a round table, and a tall set of shelves holding mainly religious and philosophical texts. The lamps were already burning – he had been here already today.</p>
<p>Aisling did as she was told, setting herself in a ladylike position on the edge of one of the large, leather chairs with her ankle crossed and both hands folded in her lap. She had no idea what she’d done wrong but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to be scolded.</p>
<p>Sebastian sank into the other chair, one leg crossed over the other in a decidedly unprincely fashion. “We need to talk.” He said finally.</p>
<p>“What about?”</p>
<p>“This.” He shoved a single sheet letter across the table over to her and closed his eyes while she read.</p>
<p>
  <em> To His Royal Highness, the most exalted Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven:<br/>It is to my dismay that I should have to send you this missive. Words have been spoken quietly amongst the nobility of our fair principality that full scandalize me as your faithful servant and loving cousin: there is scandalous discussion of your lack of heir and terribly disrespectful words regarding your need to take a wife. I do my best to quiet such talk when it passes my own ears, but one man can only squash so many rumours. I depart for the palace with all hast and expect to arrive within two days, humbly to establish the terms of my rightful appointment as the next in line for Starkhaven’s throne. It gives me no joy to think of a world without your worthy leadership, but alas we must plan for the possibility of an unfortunate future. <br/>	With all respect and love,<br/>	Lord Oswyn Vael </em>
</p>
<p>Aisling’s jaw dropped by the second sentence, and she was grimacing halfway through the third. For her there was no mistaking the handwriting on this disgustingly presumptuous letter, and she threw it back on the table like something vile as soon as she was done reading it. She recoiled from it so violently that she was now sitting fully back in her chair instead of perched on its end as before.<br/>“Is…please, Maker please tell me that’s not true,” she begged her cousin.</p>
<p>Eyes still closed; Sebastian nodded once. “I wish I could.”</p>
<p>“My <em> father </em> is next in line to the throne?” The words tasted vile in her mouth.</p>
<p>“Legally, yes.” He carefully folded the letter and shoved it inside of the small chest in the center of the table. “Unless I name someone else by royal decree.”</p>
<p>“Maker’s breath,” Aisling breathed. “I can’t think of anything worse for Starkhaven.”</p>
<p>Sebastian laughed but it came out in a morbid huff. “We could try to resurrect your brother if you want a worse option.” It was an agreement between them that they not speak of her brother Goran, or his utter idiocy in thinking his coup d’état with the Harimanns could ever have been successful. </p>
<p>“There must be someone else.” They weren’t a small family, after all. There were Vaels aplenty in Starkhaven.</p>
<p>“As your father points out,” Sebastian huffed again. “Until I marry and have children, I need a legal heir. We all know how quickly things can change around here.”</p>
<p>“Sebastian, nothing is going to happen to you.” She’d gone against her parents, her brother, and dozens of their supporters in order to help him come home to his rightful throne. She had faith in him, and in his goodness. That he would always do what was right for Starkhaven and lead with pride. So far she had been right on every count and there was no way she would see things dissolve again at the hands of her father.</p>
<p>“We can’t know that,” he reminded her.</p>
<p>“What will you do?” If she wracked her brain, she might be able to identify another cousin that wouldn’t let their land go straight to the Void.</p>
<p>“Aisling.” He turned in his chair to face her, looking nearly exasperated. The whole situation was obviously weighing on him, and with good reason. “An official appointment has to be made before your father arrives. If it already has my signature and seal on it when he walks through the gates, there’s nothing he can do about it.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Her head bobbed in unequivocal agreement. “I can sign as a witness, if it’s necessary? I don’t know how royal decrees work, precisely.”</p>
<p>Sebastian’s eyes narrowed on her in something like disbelief. “You’ll be signing as heir, not witness.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’ll what?” Aisling’s eyes felt like they were bugging out of her head, and her jaw could have hit the floor if her chin was long enough. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Right?</p>
<p>“You’re the obvious choice,” he informed her, trying for a reassuring tone. “You care about the kingdom. About its people. You cared enough to unseat your own brother because you saw the hurt it was causing Starkhaven.”</p>
<p>“He was a puppet with strings being controlled by the maniacs who killed your family,” she reminded him pointedly. “He had no right to rule and everyone knew it.”</p>
<p>“And the fact that you think that proves my point.” </p>
<p>“There has to be someone else.” She wasn’t born to rule. No one would listen to a princess who preferred running around barefoot in the gardens to sitting on a throne. </p>
<p>“There’s your father.” Sebastian shrugged. “Or I name someone outside of the family and make my return from the Chantry entirely pointless. </p>
<p>“Why don’t you just get married?” Rude. She was being rude. But why in the Maker’s name would she want to rule their principality. She loved it here, but she wasn’t born to rule.</p>
<p>Sebastian’s chin fell to his chest and his eyes closed again, but this time in disappointment. “I will. Soon. I promise.” He reached over and took his cousin’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance. “But we need to deal with this before your father arrives. It’s the only way.”</p>
<p>“It can’t be.” She pleaded, much more earnestly than she expected. “There has to be someone else.”</p>
<p>“Aisling,” he said her name again, much more tenderly than before. “If there was another option, I might take it. But if something does happen to me, I want to know that Starkhaven is cared for. I trust you to care for our home, as you’ve cared for it before.”</p>
<p>“Sebastian…” Was she really the right choice? How could she tell, being as naturally disinclined to believe in herself as she was? Her ability to read or dance or make polite conversation? Those were established. But her ability as a leader? Well, that had never been put to any sort of test.</p>
<p>“I’ll make you a deal.” He offered. The other letters on the table before them were in a short stack, and he slid them in front of her. “In return for becoming crowned princess of Starkhaven, I give you my unbreakable word that I will find a wife within a year. You will be princess on paper only. Is that amenable?”</p>
<p>She almost breathed a sigh of relief but eyed the stack of letters with deep suspicion. “What are these, then? If our deal is so straight forward?”</p>
<p>“This is the other half of our deal,” he admitted, albeit a little sheepishly. “I will marry within the year and produce an heir, absolving you of your duty to the crown. You can stay here in the palace if you wish. Keep your quarters for the rest of your life if you choose it. I would be happy to have you near as both my family and my ally. But I need to ask one more large thing of you.”</p>
<p>“As large as being made crown princess?” The words almost made her sick to her stomach, but that Sebastian had so much faith in her. She idolized her cousin in so many ways – how it was possible that he thought so well of her was a mystery.</p>
<p>“Well…yes.” He tapped the stack of letters again. “A rather large contingent of noblemen across an alarmingly large part of Thedas have heard of the cousin living in Starkhaven’s palace. I receive one or two letters per week with another application for your hand.”</p>
<p>“For <em> me </em> ?” How was this the thing he mentioned second?! “Why not for you?”</p>
<p>“I get them for me, too,” he assured her. “But those are easier to weed through. Most as vying for power with promises I suspect can never be fulfilled. Others are unsuitably young. Yesterday one arrived that was from a widow that offered any of her three daughters or even herself. Offers of every kind.”</p>
<p>“What’s the problem?” She insisted. If he was promising to marry within a year and received so many offers, what was the issue?</p>
<p>“I promise to choose one.” He truly, sincerely meant it. “But…I need you to choose one, too. One of us is going to end up handing this crown down to their children, which means both of us need to have children.”</p>
<p>Realizing he was right, Aisling dropped her head in her hand and groaned. “Oh Maker…” she repeated to herself several times before she could even look at the stack again. “But, there are only three letters here. You said you had multiple every week?”</p>
<p>“I weeded out some of the more ridiculous options,” he admitted. “The ones from men twice your age. The ones from admirers who write poetry but never their family name.” A little smirk quirked his lips. “And the ones that I knew disliked gardens.”</p>
<p>She giggled reflexively. “Did some of them really say that outright?”</p>
<p>“No.” Sebastian laughed lightly along with her. “But one arrived from Lord Durant Colbier of Hercinia, and I happen to know that he detests the outdoors. So, I threw that one in the fire.”<br/>“Always looking out for me.” She was teasing, but it was true. Sebastian had only returned from Kirkwall a relatively short time ago, but in that time the cousins had become unshakably close. Allies as well as blood, they seemed to prove a strong team despite her being thirteen years his junior.</p>
<p>“These were the most reasonable.” He tapped the stack again. “A Nevarran Pentaghast that actually has a bit of noble blood as well as a good fortune. The first son of a noble from Markham who recently took up a post at the university there: good family and I thought you’d appreciate the education. And the third is the youngest son of the Trevelyans in Ostwick.” He pulled the bottom letter out of the stack and put it on top. “Good family, good fortune, and he’s actually your age. I saved this one because it includes a bit more detail about the boy than some of the others.”</p>
<p>Aisling’s day had gone from sunny and dedicated to her book to a crown and a husband in under an hour, and she realized that it was almost too overwhelming to process it all right now. “How long do I have to decide?”</p>
<p>“I’ll have the papers drawn up for the order of succession by the end of the day.” In reality, they already existed, but he wanted to give her time to live with the decision before forcing her quill to parchment. “We’ll sign them in the Chantry before supper.”</p>
<p>She nodded and picked up the three letters. “And these?”</p>
<p>Those. Sebastian knew how much he was asking of her. It was a burden he shouldered as well, but she was so much younger. They were both youngest children who were never meant to live this life, but here they were. “I thought you might like to write a letter to each of the men and choose from the replies? There is only so much one can learn about a child from their parent. Especially a parent who will only tell you the good bits about that child.”</p>
<p>She hesitated before standing, instead holding the letters closer to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut for a long moment coupled with a deep breath. When she opened them again, she felt a tiny bit more grounded. “Thank you for asking me to do this as my cousin and not my prince.” She said finally. “I would have followed your order if you had made it that, but it means more to me that it comes from Sebastian, and not His Royal Highness.”</p>
<p>From his chair, Sebastian leaned forward and hugged Aisling tightly. As far as he was concerned, she was his family now. His only real family. And sometimes he truly believed she felt the same about him. “I know what I’m asking of you. I wouldn’t ask it if I didn’t know you could succeed.”</p>
<p>Returning the hug in earnest, she realized she was holding her breath and forced herself to exhale. It was a lot, but she would find a way to do it. For her family. For her home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been so long since I've posted any writing, but these two are swimming around in my brain without mercy. So here they are.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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